


Scattered to the wind

by Moahoa



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 14:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13413324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moahoa/pseuds/Moahoa
Summary: To say that Sif feels out of place in the wake of Ragnarok and the ensuing infinity war is an understatement. All her friends are dead, the love of her life has forsaken his duties as ruler to feast the nights away with the last remaining Valkyrie and her once proud people are forced to live out of a spaceship somewhere over a place the humans call, Trondheim.The one thing that seems to be as it was is Loki’s scheming, and that… that’s bound to be more a curse than a blessing.*On Hiatus*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You have no idea how long I debated wether or not I should cut the chapter there. I am still unsure if it was the right choice... guess you'll have to decide when I post the next one right ;) ?  
> Also if anyone wants to beta-read I would be up for it.

It’s dark this far below ground. Dusty too.

 

He wouldn’t expect any less of S.H.E.I.LD or whatever name they went by these days.

 

He always found it funny how mortals were so fickle, overthrowing regimes and shifting the paradims like clockwork, and yet they still always remained convince that the new order would last forever. The funniest thing of all is that when they looked at a true chance at stability and eternity in the face, they spit on it.

 

Disgraceful really.

 

But, Loki was not there reminisce, in fact getting lost in his thought might prove precatious as it was high time he found a way out of here. He’d been gone for far too long already. But as he passes the rows up on rows of holding pens, one makes him stop in his tracks.

 

There’s a slight glow up ahead, warm– more like embers than a live fire than a mechanical light. Could someone have been left behind? Or maybe someone hid and does not wish to be found?

 

Whatever the case may be, Loki doesn’t get to contemplate long. As something hits him square in the back.

 

 _A diversion then,_ he thinks as he uses the momentum to roll back onto his feet only to come face to face with an all to familiar blade.

 

”Lady Sif, what a plesant surpsise, I–”

 

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as the lady warrior socks him square in the jaw. Luckily for him, the adrenaline from battle is still singing in his veins and though he tastes blood, the pain is managable enough for him to not only anticipate but avoid her second strike, even in the dark.

 

”Finally! You show yourself.” She yells triumphantly and swings her sheild towards the back of his knees. Loki is less lucky this time and ends sprawled up on what seems to be shrapnel and glass. It isn’t enough to break skin, but enough to drive him to spellwork, the kind that lights up the room with orbs of wispy green light.

 

”Sif, stop!” He commands, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

 

She does not heed his warning however and he finds himself rolling away from her blade as it scrapes the concrete, creating sparks as it cuts through the floor like butter.

 

”Quiet!” She demands, resting her blade just above his throat.

 

”Sif.” He tries again, softer this time.

 

In return he finds his wrists bound in chains.

 

”Do not! I am returning you to the allfather.” She says, pulling him up by said chains.

 

He looks at his wrists incredously, of all the ways he’d thought he might be killed today, this was not one of them. Though he supposes it might be one of the least painful.

 

”Plotting my demise after only five minutes are we?” He chuckles bitterly, already knowing that if she wanted him dead, there’d be no way to change her mind.

 

But then Sif makes a face and points her blade skywards and Loki has a horrible realization.

 

”Heimdall open the gates!” She yells.

 

_She doesn’t know._

 

It takes him by surprise and he would surely have stumbled, had she not been literally keeping him on his toes. The silence stretching out between them quickly becomes deafening and look can’t help but to crack a sly smile at fates cruel ways of saving his hide.

 

Sif does not see the fun in the situation and chooses to press him up against what used to be the cells wall.

 

”What. Have. You. Done?!” She growls. ”Tell me now or face the depths of Hel. For I have since long run out of patience.”

 

Loki knows it isn’t the perfect move to chuckle, but the can’t help it. It’s just too bizarre, too lucky, too good to be true.

 

She steps on his feet, a gesture that gives away her desperation more than intimidates.

 

”Now why would that be? Praytell, dear Sif, how long have you been looking for me. Days?” He lets every word hang in the air, monitoring her reaction.

 

”Weeks?”  He continues.

 

At ”…Months?” Loki knows he knows he’s got her by the flicker in her eyes.

 

”Years?” He states finally and the truth fills up the space, like a warm blanket, wrapping him in a cocoon of safety.

 

He doesn’t take it personally when she knees him in the stomach, he expected her temper to flare somehow and a knee to the stomach was better than a knife. Besides it’d only help drive his point home.

 

”Oh, Sif.” He croos, lacing his voice with the sickenly sweet compassion he knows she hates.

 

”I did not spend the past four years chasing you down just to play your games. Heimdall!” She calls, looking up as if that she might see the watcher with her own eyes.

 

Loki bets he’d see pupils wide with fear if he looked in those eyes. Fear is better than rage, fear he can work with, fear _listens_. So, he let’s his previous chuckle turn into a full on laugh.

 

”Yes, why hasn’t Heimdall saved you? ” He asks, tilting his head as far into her personal space as he can muster with the blade still at his throat.

 

Even in the dull glow off his lights, he can see her flush and he revels in the feeling of being back in control.

 

”Curse you and your tricks. Why isn’t the watcher heeding my call? And best you chose your words with care or I swear I shall cut that silver tongue of yours out of your skull.”

 

 

”Asgard has fallen.” He states as simply as if commenting on the weather, not the destruction of their entire world.

 

Her arm goes slack and her eyes roam his face, as if looking for a tell or crack. Luckily for him, there won’t be any, cannot be any.

 

He is telling the truth after all.

 

”No.” She states and he revels as her panics sets in. Panic is better than fear. Panic means guilt and guilt _obeys_.

 

”oh yes-” He starts, using her emotional dissaray to slowly push down her blade out of harms reach.

 

”– and it’s all thanks to your _precious_ Thor. He brought Surtur’s mask back to Asgard and Ragnarök was fullfilled as told in the stories of our youth and it was _beautiful.”_ He spits.

 

But Sif doesn’t crack at his words, as expected. Instead she sets her jaw and her eyes narrow like she could kill him with only the flutter of her lashes.

 

”Are there survivors?!” She demands to know, tightening her grip on her blade and his chains once more.

 

 _So close, I was so close,_ Loki thinks sullenly.

 

”Thanks to me, yes.” He ends up grumbling.

 

Sif copies his earlier chuckles, complete with the snarky tone and underlying bitterness.

 

”Believe what you will, but the ship can be found floating somewhere above Trondheim.” Loki quips before he can stop himself.

 

Her guaffing stops and he watches as something shift in her gaze, it’s like a light turning on.

 

_Hope._

 

”And what of Thor? Did he survive the wrath of Surtur?” She asks.

 

Lokis scoffs at her predictability, he accidentally gave her more information than she bargained for and her first thought is of her unnattainable crush? A man she had not seen in 4 years?

 

_Typical._

 

Though he might be able use this to his advantage just yet.

 

”I’m afraid he’s remarkably cheerful considering he is now short of both a kingdom and an eye.” He says, carefully guaging her reaction.

 

To his annoyance, Sif remains stoic.

 

” The warriors three?” She asks with a slight smile.

 

And suddenly Loki knows just how to turn the situation back into his tired hands.

 

”Who?” He asks innocently.

 

It hits judging by the way Sif tugs on his restraints.

 

”Do not jest with me Loki! They were your friends before they were your foes.” She warns.

 

But no anger is enough to hide the fear that has once again returned to her eyes. He draws it out, letting her mind fill in the details. Sif’s no fool and whatever she’s imagining must be closer to the truth than any words he could ever speak. Though he does settle on saying one word:

 

”Valhalla.”

 

Sif barely gives him enough time to evade her blade as it buries itself in the wall beside him, sending sparks flying once more.

 

”You coward. You spinless snake. You…  You left them to die didn’t you?” She yells and swings at him again. He can’t help but to notice of her attacks lack the cold finess that’s become her signature as the shieldmaiden of Odin. That or she’s knowningly sloppy to make sure he’ll evade her blows even in chains.

 

It’s laugibly sentimental. Thor-ishly so and for a moment it makes him feel guilty. Which is ridiculous as there was no saving them, even if he had wanted too.

 

”There was nothing I could have done to change their fate.” He says.

 

”Then how are you so unnaffected? Surely if you cared about them even a little, you’d share my rage.”

 

Her words cut deeper than her sword ever could.

 

”Do _not_ think _me_ like _you_.” He hisses.

 

”My mistake.” She tuts with a roll of her eyes, ever the stubborn mule.

 

It wakes the beast within him and all the rage, hatred, guilt comes spilling from his lips.

 

” Do _not_ mistake my acceptance for apathy.  You did not even play a witness in your own people’s _anhiliation,_ so don’t come singing to me about forsaken oaths. Where was the shieldmaiden of Odin when he needed her the most? Where was she when the world was in flames and his people where screaming, where was _she_?!”  He screams.

 

She grips the hilt of her sword so tightly her knuckles turn white. Her face goes red.

 

”Trapped in your web of lies.” She hisses, voice trembling with rage.

 

And just like that Loki realizes he’ll stay her scapegoat, least he give her an other outlet for her rage.

 

Luckily for him, fates seem to yet be in his favor as an explosion rocks the ceiling.

 

Sif doesn’t seem concerned by the noise, perhaps mildly irked judging by the way she closes her eyes and breathes deeply.

 

”I’m starting to think I might still be trapped in it. What part of the truth have you kept from me this time?” She sighs, giving in, finally.

 

”There is a war raging like hasn’t been seen since the dawn of this universe” Loki speaks the words grandly, with a wide smile, the way a bard would recount the battles of old during dull moments during a banquet or feast.  
  
It’s an acute impression, but Sif doesn’t miss the fear hiding in his eyes. Loki never liked the stories of war and conquest as a child, he’d always frown all the way through and when Thor claimed he’d be just as good a fighter as the valkyries or the mighty Bhor himself, Loki would be quick to cut him down with various insluts and witty quips. Saying he’d rather live a coward than be brave only to die as horribly.

 

If nothing else he’d proven to be just that, a survivor. Sif weighs his misdeeds and narrow escapes against one another for a while before settling that even if she could no longer trust him, he would not have tempted her if he did not need her and if the serpent couldn’t survive this alone, Midgard was surely on the brink of destruction as well and if his words held any truth it was the only home she had left to loose.

 

”I could use some battle to clear my thoughts.” She says and releseases the trickster from his bindings.

 

Loki’s smile opens wide splits, showing off rows of perfect teeth.

 

”Then we best get you changed” He says and she finds herself clad in her favorite armour at the wave of his hand.

  

* * *

 

 

”Rejoice!” The king of asgard shouts as he downs his fifth pint of mead for the eve. The crowd cheers and follows suit.

 

The toast used to be longer. Two pints ago, it was a minor speech and at the pint before that an epic retelling of their victory against Thanos and an ode to those who where lost to achive it. She’d help tell it gladly, but he had yet to be invited to her usual spot at his side.

 

Granted the long tables were filled to the brim with survivors, many had abandoned the tables in favor off sitting on the stairs that lined the view deck or even the cold metal floor. One could hardly blame him for not reserving seats when they were in so short supply.

 

Besides, Sif was not in the mood to be still. Her veins were still singing with the rush of battle  (and now drink). She had been content to slowly circle the room, speaking with the few faces she recognized and being congratulated for her fierceness in battle by those she didn’t.

 

It’s in the middle of the latter that the back door slams open.

 

”A feast? Without me?!” Valkyrie calls with a smile brighter than the sun.

 

Sif does her best to keep her face neutral when Thor waves her over immediatly.

 

”Valkyrie!” He greets as he throws a steady arm around her. Taking extra care around the bandages sticking out from her midriff to shoulder, marring her the otherwise flawless fit of her tunic.

 

She shrugs it off,  punching his shoulder playfully and they share a laugh like old friends.

 

”I believe you owe me a drink.” She adds, lifting up a nearby keg, half her own size, headbutting it and drinking it dry in one fell swoop.

 

Sif finds herself thinking that that womans thirst was the kind of apetite that would not be satisfied even if she was offered the entirety of the midgardian sea.

 

”Not enjoying the festivities are we?” A smooth baritone speaks just beside her ear and she’s knows it instantly.

 

Seems her lastest admirer had been replaced by a _snake_.

 

”Go away, Loki. I am in no mood for your games tonight.” Sif counters, refusing to acknowledge the man with more than a slight glance.

 

”I am not here to play games, only to offer some friendly advice.” He pushes a drunk man aside to step around her, forcing her to look at him.

 

At this she laughs.

 

”You? A friend?” She spits, lacing every word with venom. ”You think me a fool.”

 

But instead of taking a hint, Loki prattles on like he cares little of her answers, knowing his madness and pride. He probably does not.

 

”Why Sif? Did we not fight _gloriously_ together?” He says with way too light of a heart considering his crimes, as if they were still just kids, trying to one up each other in the training grounds.

 

Not that there was much to one up. Loki had always been terrible at close combat. The only times he had not lost, were times the judge had been blind to his illusions. How she wishes she could go back to that field, only to send him sprawling back into the mud for cheating once more.

 

”One battle does not excuse a lifetime of trickery and treason.” She coos back.

 

Loki smiles with his eyes but his body betrays him, he cranes his neck like a snake preparing for a strike.

 

”My brother begs to differ” He says, words sweet as honey and twice as posionous. Then he steps aside to join his brother’s 6th toast– a gesture which is awarded by a sloppy nod of approval from the truly shit-faced god of thunder himself.

 

Sif doesn’t feel her fingernails dig into her palms before the words have already left her lips.

 

”Your brother is blinded by sentiment.” She hisses.

 

And Loki smiles, in that wicked, mischevous way of his.

 

”Jealousy is not becoming, Lady Sif.” He says, winking as he downs the rest of his sweet wine. Almonds and all.

 

The comment is like a cold shower to her temper and guilt is quick to assume it’s place. What right did she have to doubt the actions of her king? Had she not once wanted to be among the Valkyries herself? Could she blame him for befriending someone she would gladly have sacrificed her right eye to meet when they were but children?

 

No, she would not fall victim to Loki’s taunts. Not this time.

 

So, she breathes in and out and in and– watches as the sweet wine and quiet eats away at  at the trickster’s composture, as he realizes she won’t lash out, that he will not get the reaction he’s looking for. Sif rejoices over the annoyed glint in his eyes right until the Loki shifts his feet from one foot to the other and changes tactic, letting his face shift into a mask of what almost passes for sincerity.

 

”You should let him go.” He says, softly, like he is not aware how deeply his words cut.

 

”Do not.” She warns, but remains otherwise stoic.

 

Unfortunately, her demenor isn’t enough to get her point across and Loki presses on, moving into her personal space, scrunching his eyebrows up in mock pity. Sif curses herself for allowing her pride to be cut twice. Maybe she should not have had all that drink.

 

”Surely you know that your pining is a lost cause? You have already lost his affection to a mortal once, how do you expect to compete with a Valkyrie?” He says in a voice what sounds like compassion, but tastes like bitterness to those familiar with his lies.

 

”I assure you that, unlike you, I am content with my role.” Sif states, moving her left hand to the hilt of her sword just in case she needed to prove her words.

 

At this, all the mock-compassion drains from Loki’s face only to be replaced by a look of false superiority.

 

”And what role is that exactly?” He sneers.

 

Sif considers drawing her sword for the insult, but it isn’t the time for steel, she thinks. So she tilts her chin up in defiance and speaks the sharp truth instead.

 

”I am and will always be the loyal sheildmaiden of the house of Odin.” She says, conviction unwavering as the day she was sworn her oath.

 

Loki scoffs.

 

”Then you will stay his loyal guarddog forevermore?” He asks, almost hesitatantly, like he expects her to be weak-willed and fickle enough to take back her words in the next breath just because of an insult.

 

Her rage burns hot at the mere thought, painting her knuckles white with sheer resistance of keeping at her sides. But she remains paitent and instead of striking directly, she puts on her best smile, grabs his fine leather lapels and pulls him down so that their eyes are level. She even pretends to could be considering his words. That is, until she spits a ”Why not?” into his face and shoves him backwards with enough force to send him creening into the drunkard from before.

 

”My home is gone, all my friends are dead and it wasn’t for my fealty to house of Odin I might as well be too.” She adds before before he has any chance to regain dignity or composture.

 

”Sif.” He pleads, like he wasn’t expecting such a strong reaction. Like it was all meant as some bad joke on her behalf.

 

Knowing Loki, it probably was. But Sif is no mood to forgive his madness when it almost forec _her_ over the edge of sanity and so when tries to reach for her arm, she raps the back of his knuckles with her bracer.

 

”Don’t.” She warns, before turning away, dissapearing into the crowd once more.

 

* * *

 

 

Sif had foolishly thought Thor’s neglect and feasting to be a fluke, volontary amnesia brought on by the euphoria of victory mixed with warriors guilt. It was a state of mind she had experienced more than most, thought she could relate to even, but now she was not so sure.

 

Such a state rarely lasted but a few hours and neither Thor or Valkyrie had been seen for a fortnight.

 

Or well, a fortninght unless you counted as of now.

 

”Where have you been?” Sif demands as she practically marches into her old friend’s personal space.

 

”Lady Sif?” King Thor sounds amused at her anger. ”Is all well?” He asks.

 

And it stops Sif in her tracks. His disinterest seems surreal to her, almost Lokish. Thor had always been the first to charge into battle, into hunt, into feast. It was unlike him to be so out of reach.

 

” You have been missing for half a month.” She speaks plainly.

 

”and?”

 

Sif stays silent for a while, not daring to believe her ears.

 

Thor was a skilled tactician, he’d been tutored by Odin himself on the responsibilities of the crown since he spoke his first words and he’d excelled at enough to be ready to assumes the crown before Loki first betrayed him, surely he wasn’t truly suggesting that had just… left?

 

”You’re king.” She finally states.

 

Thor let’s out tired laugh. It rings in her ears.

 

”I am aware.” He adds when her expression remains stoic.

 

Sif bites her lip and does her best to carefully consider her next words, though she can’t help her shocked stare even when it makes Thor’s expession turn sour.

                                                                           

”Lady Sif. If I thought it important for you to know where I went, I assure you that you’d know.” He says, as if lecturing a petulant child.

 

Despite her best efforts to calm her nerves, Sif’s cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

 

”I never doubted you had a just cause.” She tries to explain which seems to pacify Thor, as he turns to leave.

 

”Then we have nothing further to discuss.” He says as an after-thought and warning in one.

 

But there is much left to be said in Sif’s mind and before she’s able to stop herself, her hand has shot out and grasped his shoulder.

 

”Thor.” She pleads, although she isn’t quite sure what she expects of him at this point.

 

He glances at her, before shaking it off. The action leaves her with an odd hollowness and Sif thinks of an evening just three years ago when she stood in her finest winter gown mourning would allow for the second time in only a year.

 

”Thank you for your sword and counsel, Lady Sif.” He’d said.

 

She’d watched him retreat head hung low and shoulders pulled taught, as if the loss was physically weighing him down.

 

 _This time will be different_ , she thinks. _It must be._

 

”Wait.” She calls and Thor stop, but doesn’t face her.

 

Sif steels herself for a number of responses, but the hall remains eerily silent, save for the never-ending hum of the engines that echoed through-out the ship and Valkyries steps, she’s moved closer, one hand firmly placed on her sword as if Lady Sif were to prove hereself a threat.

 

Suddenly Sif’s counsel seems too private.

 

”The people grow restless in your abscence, they have nothing to to aboard this ship.” She wisphers, hoping to goad Thor into taking her to the side for further explaination.

 

”My people are not all children, lady Sif. I am sure they occupy themselves.” He dissmisses her concerns with wave of his hand, as if she was a lowly servant.

 

It’s not only a jab at her station, but at their very friendship– for she has earned his respect, fought bravely in his name, as she did before his father before him. They have faced dragons, foul beasts and plenty of armies. They were all bad ideas, but they were victorious because they were always united and flanked by friends, who’s names she hasn’t even heard mentioned since–

 

Sif breathes and tries to banish the thoughts from her mind, if she wanted her king to listen she needed to remain resolute.

 

 ”With all due respect, that’s what I’m afraid of. There’s been wisphers and fighting. I fear they’re loyalty is vaning. They call you _the midgardian_ king!”

 

”Enough.” Thor booms and Sif swears the echoes bouncing of the hull are not the voice of Thor, but of Odin. Even the Valkyrie looks distraught by his sudden outburst, but Thor presses on, unpreturbed by her pointed looks.

 

 ”I am king yet am I not?” He questions.

 

And Sif desperately tries to fit the man in front of her to the man she once knew. But it’s like looking at a picture through a muddy stable window, all she can make out are some familiar features that should be something they are not. It’s jarring and Sif feels the kinds of fear she has not endured since she was but a child .

 

”Of course.” She answers, bowing her neck just as much out of respect as to hide.

 

But there is some familiarity left after all, as Thor places a hand over hers at last.

 

”and you have sworn fealty to this crown?” He asks softly and Sif finds her gaze drawn upwards by his one remaining eye, it’s bright blue and sharp like never before, beautiful in the way that a storm is beautiful until your house is set on fire by a stray bolt of lighting.

 

”Yes.” She breathes, trying to relax her posture, but peace never comes and her shoulders remain set and her heart beats readily in her ears.

 

”Then trust that I have only the best interest of my people at heart.” He says gruffily. It’s a warning, she realizes.

 

”Thor…” She pleads once more, although the numbness in her abdomen tells her this is a battle she already lost.

 

”I am not as foolish I once was. If I need your counsel lady Sif, I shall seek it.” Thor _orders_ , and with a swish of his cape, he’s down the hall, Valkyrie in tow.

 

When Valkyrie glances back, Sif pretends not to notice.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sif is lonely, Loki is too wrapped up in details too see the big picture and Thor ships sifki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I ended up making this a separate chapter just because it felt like I was never gonna get this fic up if I didn't. Again, I'm hoping this won't affect the pacing to much!

Sif meant to return straight to her quarters, had in fact hurried to do so. Only she’d found the time it took to get there was not nearly long enough to quell her frustration, so she’d merely cast a glance at the door and continues onward, knowing that she was bound to end up in the same place sooner or later as the ship was interconnected in the stranges of ways. It was if whoever built this ship decided the placement of things as they went along. Actually, as she considered the poorly placed exhuast vents that carried sound from the mess hall into the restrooms as well as the quarells from the common room to her bedroom, it seemed almost self-evident.

 

As did the fact that the ship was not built to sustain long-term living, and just like that her thoughts had looped back to her fight with Thor, before she’d even completed her first lap no less.

 

_Ugh._

 

Something had to be done. If Thor was too preoccupied to enforce policies, then Sif would have to lighten the load. She was not fool enough to think it a permanent solution, to act on her own, especially without her king’s blessing… but as her tutors had said ”distrust and fear is like weeds in the minds of the less fortunate”.

 

And everyone aboard this ship was now among the less fortunate, having to forgo their trades and stations to cower like animals in a glided cage. So, she was certain that it was only a matter of time before the riots would rise again if she did not act.

 

Because… well, what else was she supposed to do? After all, she was only some dull-witted sheildmaiden that couldn’t see past her blade, not anyone worth listening too. Thor had made _that_ abundantly clear.

 

If all she could do was to buy time, then she would simply have to beg for his forgiveness and if he could not grant her that then… then… so be it!

 

So be it.

 

SO BE IT.

 

Sif unsheathes her sword and let’s a particularly unseemly decorative orb taste the depths of her frustration.

 

”My my– I know it was never your favorite color, but does evergreen really offend you so?”

 

She swings her blade around in a swift arc stopping just in time to let it hover over Loki’s throat.

 

”I have no patience for _you_ today.” She hisses.

 

”Is that so?” Loki says and smiles widely, ignoring the steel in front of him.

 

His antics does little to calm her temper and Sif considers drawing blood, even the harmless kind that serves as a warning, but he shifts and the sound of broken glass makes her reconsider. She’d caused enough property damage already.

  
”I’m afraid not.” She contends as and lowers her blade.

 

”Well then, I hope I shall surpass your expectations”  Loki says and has the nerve to _smile_ as offers his arm, as if she was but an other lady in the court, donning frivolous drapery and not light armor. ”Walk with me?”

 

Sif closes her eyes and breathes a prayer for strength. An adamant Loki only meant more trouble, but there was no where to run to from his insatiable curiosity aboard such a small and poorly designed ship. If he has buisness with her, it was best to get it over-with sooner than later.

 

”You have until I reach my quarters.” She says, craning her neck towards the hallway from which she came.  

 

His eyes light up like the child on the first day of yule and Sif instantly regrets not giving herself more time to gather her compusture. Loki wastes no time confirming that this was indeed a poor choice on her part, the moment they start walking.

 

”About your little conversation with my brother–” He says, as if it already was common knowledge and not something that occured a mere hour ago.

 

It earns him her most vicious glare.

 

”Eavesdropping were you?” Sif asks in mock-sweetness.

 

”Is it really if one is trying to block it out? You know how loud our _king_ _’s_ voice is, I am sure I am not the only one that heard.” Loki defends easily with a roll of his eyes.

 

Sif wants to force him to take back the words and call it an obvious lie, is about to, when she remembers that there had been an exhaust vent resonably close. For all she knew, Loki could be correct in his assumption that everyone had heard her and Thor’s quarell, a thought which makes her cheeks burn for the second time that afternoon.

 

… Except, if Loki had truly heard their quarrel himself, then surely he would not be bothering her as he’d know everything he needed?

 

”So why are you here, have you come to gloat, is that it?” Sif asks, carefully watching for any signs of mischeif out of the corner of her eye.

 

But Loki doesn’t offer a reply straight away and keeps his gaze fixed forward as if in deep thought, something that would be mildly reassuring if it wasn’t for that upturned corner by the edge of his lips.

 

”No, not at all. In fact, I think you were in the right” He says, suddenly as if startled by his own conclusion and she finds herself stopping in her tracks to stare.

 

_Loki agreeing? With an ally of his brother?_

 

Best ask Heimdall to check on Jotunheim lest it flood with all the melting ice.

 

”Thor IS being reckless by leaving the people to their own devices. If he does not show willingness to actually _lead_ , we might soon have a revolution on our hands.” He says matter of factly and Sif laments agreeing to this walk, short as it may be.

 

Before now, she’d been able to give Loki the benefit of the doubt, in consideration to the new lease on life after betraying _the destroyer of worlds_ for their sake. But in light of the rising tension, his sly comments were getting harder and harder to ignore. If he was truly the one behind it all somehow, spreading rumors and lies to undermine Thor. The moment she’d gathered proof of such that being the case, she vowed to personally shove her blade half down his throat for treason.

 

”So why speak so openly?” She pries.

 

At this Loki, stops, he looks thoughtful once more. Then wisps of light shoot from the tip of his fingers, floating hapzardly through the air, stopping to hover barely an armslength away. With a turn of his wrist, Loki let’s light fade, leaving but a slight shimmer in it’s place.

 

 _This is it. The betrayal, the proof_ , she knew was coming.

 

Sif thought she was ready, but the spell seems to have canceled any noise from the outside and her breathing sounds like echoes in the cramped space between them. It makes her feel cornered, like a fox in a hunter’s trap.

 

Except Loki doesn’t provoke, doesn’t draw a blade.

 

Not even to stab her.

 

 ”Look– I will not repeat myself more than once– not even out of sight like this.” He says, stumbling over the words like he isn’t quite sure in what order they belong.

 

”You _were_ in the right.” He says, puffing up his chest and staring her down as if she dare say otherwise.

 

And Sif glares right back, feeling positively deflated, but refusing to show it. If she were to defend Thor, she’ll be refuting her own argument and yet, if she does not, it would mean agreeing with Loki. Both of which were unacceptable.

 

”So what of it? You know best that a king only marches to his own drum.” She hisses, crossing her arms as if that would physically sheild her from his stupid words and stupider mind games.

 

Which must’ve been an other mistake, because Loki smiles again.

 

”Really? I wouldn’t be so sure. In fact, you might find that your words would have a greater impact if they were spoken by somone else.” He says, mirroring her crossed arms out of spite, she’s sure.

 

”You’re offering to speak for me? Why?”  She asks.

 

A change passes over Loki’s features, like a shadow it flickers into existance somewhere behind his eyes, so fleeting that it dissapears in an exhale. If she didn’t know him well, she might mistake it for a tremor of fear or a sign pity.

 

Loki wets his tongue once more.

 

”One could say that, you were not the only one who forgot their place.”

Sif’s mind reels as if he’d struck her. Condolences and favors were reserved for friends and all of hers were dead.

 

”Is that supposed to be an apology?” She means to sound scathing, but her surprise ends up raising her voice at least an octave to high.

 

”Of sorts… should I take it that speaking to our king might excuse some of my previous behavior?” Loki is still smiling as he speaks, but his voice treads carefully, weaving up and down as if searching for the proper tone. It sounds suspiciously much like the waver of insecurity, but _that_ was truly laughable, as if she could ever believe that Loki had a sincere enough bone left in his body to feel such things.

 

”Forgiveness is not a currency _you_ trade in and you do not give favors for free, so out with it, what mischeif have you set in motion this time?” She says, letting him know she’s seen through his little act.

 

Yet Loki keeps smiling.

 

 _By the norns!,_ she hated that infernal smile.

 

”Ah, but surely you cannot fault me for trying to make amends? You have obviously noticed you are not the only one who is finding it hard to adjust in this difficult times, no? Maybe watching you blaze the path of acceptance is just making it easier for me to follow suit.” He muses, words spilling out of his lip in quick succession.

 

Sif scoffs at the notion.

 

” _Me_ to leading _you_ onto the right path? That is possibly the worst lie you have ever told.”

 

”Is it? I thought telling Thor his bed had a Bilgesnipe nest under it was the worst.” Loki jests and despite her best efforts nostalgia pulls at her heart at the mention of the memory.

 

They’d barely turned a century or two when Thor somehow enlisted all of their friends and the entire palace guard to vanquish ”what promised to one day be the most horrible beasts”. Imagine their surprise as they were told to march into his chambers and found nothing but a ring of small boulders, some hay and a single evergreen scale. It had been one of Lokis better tricks. The only one that did not spend the rest of the week in fits of laughter was the poor captain had to inform Thor that, your highness;

 

”Bilgesnpie do not lay eggs.” Sif mutters before catching herself and really, she could not be blamed. The sentance had long since become an in-joke between the warriors three regarding a stubborn nature. It practically spoke itself.

 

But just because it was a cheap tactic didn’t mean that Sif hadn’t fallen for it and that she did not feel angry at herself for doing so.

 

”Goodnight, Loki.” Is all she says before hitting him with the dull side of her blade and stormings of down the hall towards her quarters.

 

”Good night, lady Sif.” Echoes after her.

  

* * *

 

 

A few days pass in quick succession, as they tended to do when life lost purpose, Loki had found. Despite the amount of gossip that mounted at the between the lady Sif and his brother, there had yet to be any real development of concequence, as Thor’s return marked a new supply of rations and a disgustingly vague speech about the future on earth which had been enough to temporarily quell the unrest. It was putting a wet blanket over a forest fire, but to his dismay, Loki had not found a single moment to tell him so.

 

Moments between shared meals or had grown fleeting and far between and never once were they shared without the presence of the Valkyrie. Not that Brynhilde wasn’t good company, it was just that her fondness of the spirits made any substansial topic derail in the most spectacular of fashion.

 

And Loki was not really a patient man.

 

Sure, he had learnt the necissity of biding time, but that was when he was sure of the outcome. Like the proper dramatic pause before delivering the punchline to a well thought out joke, wheras this, this was more like the silence after your mother shoves you infront of family friends to exchange pleasentries and the conversation dies out once you realize that there is no true investment from either side.

 

It feels like an eternity, but finally, come the Sunday after Thors return, he finally spots him _,_ having breakfast by his makeshift throne, _alone_.

 

Loki quickly makes his presance known.

 

”You’re up early today?” He says, the words echoing through the empty bridge.

 

”Logfhhi!” Thor smiles goofily at him, breadpiece still in his mouth. _Classy._

 

He swallows. ”Here–Have a piece!” He says and throws an other piece of bread at Loki’s face.  Luckily it’s a bun and not a loaf, so it isn’t too hard to grab it before it reaches it target.

 

Loki rolls his eyes, but also can’t help the small smile that tugs on his lips at his brothers antics. These months alone he’d gotten a decorative orb, a pitcher shaped like a fish, a gun and Miek thrown his way, just to prove that yes, he was in fact solid.  Not that Loki could not conjure a solid illusion, but luckily Thor had yet to think as far.

 

”Come, join me!”

 

Loki does not need to be told twice, taking a seat on a step slightly to the right of Thor. They eat in companionable silence for a while. Thor insists on tossing the sides and meats as well and Loki even goads a laugh out of him by breifly juggling the objects.

 

”It is good to have you back, brother.” Thor says then and it is the perfect opening.

 

”It is good to see you back to..” Loki let’s the words trail of as he lobs each dish to the side, stacking them in a neat little tower. ”– speaking of your return, I heard you had quite the welcome last week.”

 

Thor’s smile fades instantly and Loki practically sees his guard pop right back up with it.

 

”You haven’t had Strange spy on me have you?” He jests, but there’s an undertone of distrust lacing the words.

 

Loki simply scoffs at the notion.

 

”I would never.” He says, holding his gaze steady and body language open to convey his deepest sincerity, _he was after all very much capable of listening with his own magic and would rather risk dying than ask for the advice of a mortal hack._

 

Thor’s smile returns full force at his proclamation.

 

”Then I take it you and the lady Sif have finally made up then?” He asks, eyes full of warmth and approval that stops Loki dead in his tracks, surely Thor is not insinuating?

 

”…made up what?” He asks just to be sure.

 

”Y’know..Your… _thing.._ from before…” Thor says and Loki isn’t sure what is more mortifying; the words themselves or the fact that Thor punctuates the sentance with the least suttle wink in the history of Asgard… or why not the fact that implies that his brother not only thinks he’s had some sort of romantic affair with the Lady Sif, who clearly has spent her entire life in-love with THOR HIMSELF? For once Loki is at a loss for words.

 

Luckily Thor decides to barrel on.

 

”Don’t try to tell me it was not there, I saw her with your dagger the night of my coronation!” He accuses with a self-righteous smirk, crossing his arms as if that’d proof to settle the matter.

 

Lady Sif did have a dagger of his that night, but only because she had bested him fair and square, on the training grounds a few days prior. It was not an uncommon thing to bet dear items when one got drunk enough during a particularly rowdy feast. So the fact that his brother would take not of such a thing and deem it significant was… actually just like him. Once an idea entered his head, it festered and refuting it became a lost cause.

 

”I assure you there has never been more than a little friendly rivalry between us.” Loki tries anyway, because if there was one thing he could match his brother in, it was stubornness.

 

His brother looks as if he might actually consider the words and let the matter rest, but then he doesn’t. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

 

”But she confides in you, yes?”

 

Loki considers telling Thor off for being a presumptious oaf, but his gut tells him not to and instead he bites his tongue. For now it might prove advantageous to stay vague.

 

”She has expressed some concern yes.” He says, giving his brother a pointed look, which hopefully conveys the fact that, relation or not, he agrees with Sif´s standing on this matter.

 

”Good.” Thor says.

 

Frustration tears at Loki’s composture. Any subtleties was of course lost on him.

 

”Good? Thor. You’ve been gone for weeks at a time. Our people are teethering on the edge of destruction and once you come back your only interest is feasting and ingoring old friends. _Good_ is not how I’d put it.”

 

Loki watches his brother’s smile fade and momentarily regrets his words. Even if he was right, didn’t mean he hadn’t been to brash.

 

Then Thor grasps his shoulder.

 

”I’m glad you two found solace in eachother.” He says.

 

And Loki sees there’s something on the tip of his tongue, something he wants to tell, something he’s deliberately kept hidden. Suddenly the distance becomes clear, he has not lost standing with his brother, but regained it. His brother is afraid, that if he keeps close, he will let a secret spill.

 

”…You are keeping things from me?” Loki says, deliberatly letting every little peace of hurt seep through.

 

Thor gives him a pained look and squeezes his shoulder tightly, and Loki knows his words made it through.

 

 ”You will have to trust that our people are safest where they are for now.” Thor says stubbornly and retreats down the hall, his breakfast only half-eaten.

 

 _Safe where they are,_ **_for now_** ? Loki mulls it over and ever so slowly a smile starts to pull at the corners of his lips.

 

* * *

 

The fast approaching winter, meant snow, even in Midgard. Snow meant an uptake in water needing to be filtered out that meant an unpresedented level of  that was slowly creeping inside. To make matters worse, the central heating and life support was not meant to operate this close to a planet.

 

Something which Sif had yet again been made aware of, as she’d awoken from her own shivers, only to find that the heater in her cabin had failed and that there was a layer of morning dew like mist covering her entire cabin.

 

Given that this had happend every other day this past week, she knew it’d take at least a few hours after she’d given the thermostat a good whack before the room was in order once more.

 

She glances at the barely existant window.

 

Still pitch black.

 

With a little luck it could be close to morning, she reminds herself.  A midguardian winter appearently meant that the times the sun decided to grace them with it’s presence grew fewer and further between by each passing day. She had been told that this was a perfectly normal occurance and it would be far worse before it got better.  At the eve of yule, they’d be lucky to even catch the sun for an hour or so.

 

Sif debates wether it is worth risking sickness or lack of sleep, but eventually settles on neither and decides to at least get her furrs.  But by the time she’s put them on, the warmth of her bed has already faded and any hopes of sleep with it.

 

With a resigned sigh, she takes to roaming the halls. She wanders through winding hallways down to the mess hall, but finds the entire way empty and equally clammy as her quarters. So she wanders on westward, towards the airlock, hoping that the fresh night air might clear her mind and bring her some peace.

 

Only, she finds it is has already been pried wide open.

 

”Lady Sif, what a pleasure.” A voice greets her drily.

 

Sif cranes her neck upwards to, unsurprisingly,  find Loki perched right by the edge.

 

 _Who else would be mad enough to be up at this hour?_ She thinks bitterly.

 

That being said, he doesn’t look mad, in fact he looks more at peace than she’s seen him in the past decade, with a book propped upon one leg and the other dangling over the edge like there wasn’t a solid kilometer of air between his sole to the ground below.

 

Despite the strong wind and cold, he’s in his usual leathers and tunic. He hasn’t even got proper gloves on.  For a moment she wonders if it’s the madness but then she realizes that:

 

_Of course, a frost giant would not feel the cold._

 

”What mischeif are you up to this time, Laufeyson?” She asks, making sure to pull her furrs snugly around her shoulders as she steps out into the freezing winds.

 

”Even tricksters must rest. For now, I’m simply admiring the view.” He says and gestures to the sky above.

 

Sif is about to protest that one could do both before her mouth falls open at of the beauty of it.

 

”Aurora borealis.”   She wisphers to no one in particular, but Loki’s listening, like always.

 

”You’ve seen it before?” He asks, like he might be impressed.

 

”No, but I’ve heard the rumours.” She lets when and where lay unspoken.

 

”And what do you think?”

 

Sif looks at the swirls of green, red and yellow.

.

”It looks like home.” She says.

 

Loki’s whole face scrunches up in dissaproval and he mutters something venomous under his breath, something that only cements that her answer was not the one he’d been looking for. Much to her chargin, it was appearently so ineloquent of her that he quickly gathers his things and stands to leave.

 

”Well the lady will have to excuse me. Duty calls.” He says overtly sweetly.

 

Sif makes sure to let her face show how much she could not care a less, that is until she notes the text in his his hand is in the mortal tongue.

 

”Wait!”  She says.

 

However, Loki does not appear to be in a listening mood anymore and she is forced to grab at his cape.

 

”That book in your hands. Show it to me.” She demands.

 

Loki turns to shake his head at her.

 

”Since when has the good of war been interested in children’s tales?” He asks.

 

”Since she was a child. What harm is there in humoring me?” She replies.

 

”None at all. Of course.” He admits.

 

For a moment, Sif thinks he will hand over the tome, then _that infernal smile_ appears in the corner of his lips and he vanishes it by a flick of his wrists.

 

” Enjoy the lights! Lady Sif.” He says, before stepping into the shadows and out of her reach once more.

 

”Loki!” She calls, but finds both her vision and voice drowned out by a sudden flurry of snow. Once she’s brushed it out of her face the doors are shut tight and by the time she’s pried it open with her blade, he’s long gone. 

 


End file.
